Short Stories
"'No, Astafy Ivanovitch,' said he, 'I've never seen them.'
"'Why, Emelyan Ilyitch, I suppose they've run off of themselves, eh?'
"'Maybe they have, Astafy Ivanovitch.'
"When I heard him say that, I got up at once, went up to him, lighted the
lamp and sat down to work to my sewing. I was altering a waistcoat for a
clerk who lived below us. And wasn't there a burning pain and ache in my
breast! I shouldn't have minded so much if I had put all the clothes I had
in the fire. Emelyanoushka seemed to have an inkling of what a rage I was
in. When a man is guilty, you know, sir, he scents trouble far off, like
the birds of the air before a storm.
"'Do you know what, Astafy Ivanovitch,' Emelyanoushka began, and his poor
old voice was shaking as he said the words, 'Antip Prohoritch, the
apothecary, married the coachman's wife this morning, who died the other
day----'
"I did give him a look, sir, a nasty look it was; Emelyanoushka understood
it too. I saw him get up, go to the bed, and begin to rummage there for
something. I waited--he was busy there a long time and kept muttering all
the while, 'No, not there, where can the blessed things have got to!' I
waited to see what he'd do; I saw him creep under the bed on all fours. I
couldn't bear it any longer. 'What are you crawling about under the bed
for, Emelyan Ilyitch?' said I.
"'Looking for the breeches, Astafy Ivanovitch. Maybe they've dropped down
there somewhere.'
"'Why should you try to help a poor simple man like me,' said I, 'crawling
on your knees for nothing, sir?'--I called him that in my vexation.
"'Oh, never mind, Astafy Ivanovitch, I'll just look. They'll turn up,
maybe, somewhere.'
"'H'm,' said I, 'look here, Emelyan Ilyitch!'
"'What is it, Astafy Ivanovitch?' said he.
"'Haven't you simply stolen them from me like a thief and a robber, in
return for the bread and salt you've eaten here?' said I.
"I felt so angry, sir, at seeing him fooling about on his knees before me.
"'No, Astafy Ivanovitch.'
"And he stayed lying as he was on his face under the bed. A long time he
lay there and then at last crept out. I looked at him and the man was as
white as a sheet. He stood up, and sat down near me in the window and sat
so for some ten minutes.
"'No, Astafy Ivanovitch,' he said, and all at once he stood up and came
towards me, and I can see him now; he looked dreadful. 'No, Astafy
Ivanovitch,' said he, 'I never--sort of--touched your breeches.'
"He was all of a shake, poking himself in the chest with a trembling
finger, and his poor old voice shook so that I was frightened, sir, and sat
as though I was rooted to the window-seat.
"'Well, Emelyan Ilyitch,' said I, 'as you will, forgive me if I, in my
foolishness, have accused you unjustly. As for the breeches, let them go
hang; we can live without them. We've still our hands, thank God; we need
not go thieving or begging from some other poor man; we'll earn our bread.'
"Emelyanoushka heard me out and went on standing there before me. I looked
up, and he had sat down. And there he sat all the evening without stirring.
At last I lay down to sleep. Emelyanoushka went on sitting in the same
place. When I looked out in the morning, he was lying curled up in his old
coat on the bare floor; he felt too crushed even to come to bed. Well, sir,
I felt no more liking for the fellow from that day, in fact for the first
few days I hated him. I felt as one may say as though my own son had robbed
me, and done me a deadly hurt. Ach, thought I, Emelyanoushka,
Emelyanoushka! And Emelyanoushka, sir, went on drinking for a whole
fortnight without stopping. He was drunk all the time, and regularly
besotted. He went out in the morning and came back late at night, and for a
whole fortnight I didn't get a word out of him. It was as though grief was
gnawing at his heart, or as though he wanted to do for himself completely.
At last he stopped; he must have come to the end of all he'd got, and then
he sat in the window again. I remember he sat there without speaking for
three days and three nights; all of a sudden I saw that he was crying. He
was just sitting there, sir, and crying like anything; a perfect stream, as
though he didn't know how his tears were flowing. And it's a sad thing,
sir, to see a grown-up man and an old man, too, crying from woe and grief.
"'What's the matter, Emelyanoushka?' said I.
"He began to tremble so that he shook all over. I spoke to him for the
first time since that evening.
"'Nothing, Astafy Ivanovitch.'
"'God be with you, Emelyanoushka, what's lost is lost. Why are you moping
about like this?' I felt sorry for him.
"'Oh, nothing, Astafy Ivanovitch, it's no matter. I want to find some work
to do, Astafy Ivanovitch.'
"'And what sort of work, pray, Emelyanoushka?'
"'Why, any sort; perhaps I could find a situation such as I used to have.
I've been already to ask Fedosay Ivanitch. I don't like to be a burden on
you, Astafy Ivanovitch. If I can find a situation, Astafy Ivanovitch, then
I'll pay it you all back, and make you a return for all your hospitality.'
"'Enough, Emelyanoushka, enough; let bygones be bygones--and no more to be
said about it. Let us go on as we used to do before.'
"'No, Astafy Ivanovitch, you, maybe, think--but I never touched your riding
breeches.'
"'Well, have it your own way; God be with you, Emelyanoushka.'
"'No, Astafy Ivanovitch, I can't go on living with you, that's clear. You
must excuse me, Astafy Ivanovitch.'
"'Why, God bless you, Emelyan Ilyitch, who's offending you and driving you
out of the place--am I doing it?'
"'No, it's not the proper thing for me to live with you like this, Astafy
Ivanovitch. I'd better be going.'
"He was so hurt, it seemed, he stuck to his point. I looked at him, and
sure enough, up he got and pulled his old coat over his shoulders.
"'But where are you going, Emelyan Ilyitch? Listen to reason: what are you
about? Where are you off to?'
"'No, good-bye, Astafy Ivanovitch, don't keep me now'--and he was
blubbering again--'I'd better be going. You're not the same now.'
"'Not the same as what? I am the same. But you'll be lost by yourself like
a poor helpless babe, Emelyan Ilyitch.'
"'No, Astafy Ivanovitch, when you go out now, you lock up your chest and it
makes me cry to see it, Astafy Ivanovitch. You'd better let me go, Astafy
Ivanovitch, and forgive me all the trouble I've given you while I've been
living with you.'
"Well, sir, the man went away. I waited for a day; I expected he'd be back
in the evening--no. Next day no sign of him, nor the third day either. I
began to get frightened; I was so worried, I couldn't drink, I couldn't
eat, I couldn't sleep. The fellow had quite disarmed me. On the fourth day
I went out to look for him; I peeped into all the taverns, to inquire for
him--but no, Emelyanoushka was lost. 'Have you managed to keep yourself
alive, Emelyanoushka?' I wondered. 'Perhaps he is lying dead under some
hedge, poor drunkard, like a sodden log.' I went home more dead than alive.
Next day I went out to look for him again. And I kept cursing myself that
I'd been such a fool as to let the man go off by himself. On the fifth day
it was a holiday--in the early morning I heard the door creak. I looked up
and there was my Emelyanoushka coming in. His face was blue and his hair
was covered with dirt as though he'd been sleeping in the street; he was as
thin as a match. He took off his old coat, sat down on the chest and looked
at me. I was delighted to see him, but I felt more upset about him than
ever. For you see, sir, if I'd been overtaken in some sin, as true as I am
here, sir, I'd have died like a dog before I'd have come back. But
Emelyanoushka did come back. And a sad thing it was, sure enough, to see a
man sunk so low. I began to look after him, to talk kindly to him, to
comfort him.
"'Well, Emelyanoushka,' said I, 'I am glad you've come back. Had you been
away much longer I should have gone to look for you in the taverns again
to-day. Are you hungry?'
"'No, Astafy Ivanovitch.'
"'Come, now, aren't you really? Here, brother, is some cabbage soup left
over from yesterday; there was meat in it; it is good stuff. And here is
some bread and onion. Come, eat it, it'll do you no harm.'
"I made him eat it, and I saw at once that the man had not tasted food for
maybe three days--he was as hungry as a wolf. So it was hunger that had
driven him to me. My heart was melted looking at the poor dear. 'Let me run
to the tavern,' thought I, 'I'll get something to ease his heart, and then
we'll make an end of it. I've no more anger in my heart against you,
Emelyanoushka!' I brought him some vodka. 'Here, Emelyan Ilyitch, let us
have a drink for the holiday. Like a drink? And it will do you good.' He
held out his hand, held it out greedily; he was just taking it, and then he
stopped himself. But a minute after I saw him take it, and lift it to his
mouth, spilling it on his sleeve. But though he got it to his lips he set
it down on the table again.
"'What is it, Emelyanoushka?'
"'Nothing, Astafy Ivanovitch, I--sort of----'
"'Won't you drink it?'
"'Well, Astafy Ivanovitch, I'm not--sort of--going to drink any more,
Astafy Ivanovitch.'
"'Do you mean you've given it up altogether, Emelyanoushka, or are you only
not going to drink to-day?'
"He did not answer. A minute later I saw him rest his head on his hand.
"'What's the matter, Emelyanoushka, are you ill?'
"'Why, yes, Astafy Ivanovitch, I don't feel well.'
"I took him and laid him down on the bed. I saw that he really was ill: his
head was burning hot and he was shivering with fever. I sat by him all day;
towards night he was worse. I mixed him some oil and onion and kvass and
bread broken up.
"'Come, eat some of this,' said I, 'and perhaps you'll be better.' He shook
his head. 'No,' said he, 'I won't have any dinner to-day, Astafy
Ivanovitch.'
"I made some tea for him, I quite flustered our old woman--he was no
better. Well, thinks I, it's a bad look-out! The third morning I went for a
medical gentleman. There was one I knew living close by, Kostopravov by
name. I'd made his acquaintance when I was in service with the
Bosomyagins; he'd attended me. The doctor come and looked at him. 'He's in
a bad way,' said he, 'it was no use sending for me. But if you like I can
give him a powder.' Well, I didn't give him a powder, I thought that's just
the doctor's little game; and then the fifth day came.
"He lay, sir, dying before my eyes. I sat in the window with my work in my
hands. The old woman was heating the stove. We were all silent. My heart
was simply breaking over him, the good-for-nothing fellow; I felt as if it
were a son of my own I was losing. I knew that Emelyanoushka was looking at
me. I'd seen the man all the day long making up his mind to say something
and not daring to.
"At last I looked up at him; I saw such misery in the poor fellow's eyes.
He had kept them fixed on me, but when he saw that I was looking at him, he
looked down at once.
"'Astafy Ivanovitch.'
"'What is it, Emelyanoushka?'
"'If you were to take my old coat to a second-hand dealer's, how much do
you think they'd give you for it, Astafy Ivanovitch?'
"'There's no knowing how much they'd give. Maybe they would give me a
rouble for it, Emelyan Ilyitch.'
"But if I had taken it they wouldn't have given a farthing for it, but
would have laughed in my face for bringing such a trumpery thing. I simply
said that to comfort the poor fellow, knowing the simpleton he was.
"'But I was thinking, Astafy Ivanovitch, they might give you three roubles
for it; it's made of cloth, Astafy Ivanovitch. How could they only give one
rouble for a cloth coat?'